


A Question of Logistics

by Luki



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Mike has questions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27801040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luki/pseuds/Luki
Summary: Mike thinks the ghosts float.  They think he's an idiot...until they think he isn't.And Alison really wishes she'd fought harder on movie night.
Relationships: Alison (Ghosts TV 2019) & Everyone, Alison/Mike (Ghosts TV 2019)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 128





	A Question of Logistics

**Author's Note:**

> Blame Tumblr for throwing me into Ghost hell.

In hindsight, ‘Ghost’ probably should have been vetoed on movie night.

In Alison’s defence, she’d gotten complacent when it came to interacting with her incorporeal roommates. Movie night is one of the few events everyone can enjoy – Mike included. Also, since it’s an activity that requires people to sit, be quiet, and not ask any questions for at least 90 minutes, it’s the highlight of her week at this point.

Of course, since Mike doesn’t have to endure the three hour interrogation that makes her feel like Kellyanne Conway after a Trump tweeting session, he keeps trying to slip in ghost related films into the pre-approved selection.

No. Just no. For months she’d been unrelenting. She had enough issues dealing with the fallout of Mike inserting Pride and Prejudice and Zombies rather than the classic 3 weeks ago, nobody is putting her through comforting Kitty after the Poltergeist. Lady Button’s shrieks might actually break glass.

Then Pat had asked if there was any chance they could watch Ghostbusters, since he’d been looking forward to seeing it, only to die before he could. As Julian had already spoiled most of the plot, she’d relented – and had been pleasantly surprised that it had gone down relatively well. Mary did start demanding that they burn marshmallows over the cooking stove to ‘repel the demonic entities inside’ whenever they brought them into the house, and she’s going to stab out her eardrums if she hears that theme song one more time, but otherwise, no real issues. Which means Mike has gotten bold.

(Although in her husbands defence, she suspects this was also a desperate attempt to add a new romance to the pile after enduring The Notebook 8 different times).

“Oh Mike, no, no, no, no,” she says, when she first realises what he’d just put on. He ignores her, sitting down and slipping an arm around her shoulders.

“Relax, they’ve gotten plenty of enrichment at this point. Remember how well Ghostbusters went down?”

“Ooh, who you gonna call?” Robin exclaims, and Alison raises a finger.

“No! Do not start-”

Too late. Julian, Pat and Kitty are all humming the theme song, and she just shakes her head, waiting for the movie to start and for the ghosts to calm down.

Well, if nothing else, maybe this will finally get them off that little ditty...

* * *

When the credits roll, nobody has fled from the room in horror. However-

“Waaahhh!!!” Kitty sobs into her sleeve. “He, and she, waaaah!”

Thomas was also leaning back, posing like the tortured soul he desperately wanted to be. “A parting of such deep sorrow. But for the chance to say goodbye in such a way, one can only dream of such a moment.”

And on the other hand-

“Utter drivel,” Julian moans. “All that fuss over a women when he’d developed superpowers. Death was the best thing to ever happen to him.”

Robin was also scoffing. “Too many tricks. Lucky ghost could go wherever he wanted.”

“I hopes Oda Mae got to a priest,” Mary also offers. “Her gift was witchcraft it was.”

“I liked it,” Humphrey insists. “Sad but sweet. Made you cry. I’d give it two thumbs up.”

His eyes flit over to the corner of the room, where his body has somehow ended up. “You know, if I had them right now.”

“I for one was utterly scandalised,” Lady Button offers, looking as put out as she ever does. “Does decorum not exist at all in the colonies?”

That seems to calm Kitty down, as she sits up and sniffs a few times, before clutching at her chest dramatically.

“It was wonderful. That scene with the pottery, couldn’t you just die,” she sighs.

"Good date night movie really," Pat agrees.

“Please Kitty, it was far too erotic,” Lady Button scoffs. “It’s practically necrophilia.”

“Actually, the term is spectrophilia,” Julian explains. “No bodies, just spirits. It’s funny, I once knew a chap in the House of Lords who-”

“If only such things were possible,” Thomas sighs, staring over at Alison. “I would ‘spectrophilia’ with you every night.”

Alison hides the eye roll with a non-committal nod. Beside her, Mike shuffles.

“So, what did they think?” he asks. “Your eyebrow isn’t twitching, so they must have enjoyed it.”

“Well, none of them ran screaming from the room in terror, so that’s a plus,” Alison admits. “But now they’re heavily debating the logistics. The relationship was scandalous, and Sam was far too OP.”

“Well he was. It’s complete poppycock,” The Captain insists, gesturing at the screen. “Utterly unrealistic. If it were that easy to interact with people, we wouldn’t have had nearly as many problems.”

“Speech, telekinesis, and the ability to leave the location of death?” Julian mutters. “Lucky bastard.”

“You never know, could be something to work towards,” Pat offers, and Alison grins.

“Thanks Pat. No reason you can’t work for a goal.”

Mike grins. “See, told you they’d like it.”

“It was at least more accurate than Ghostbusters,” Alison admits. Mike nods back.

“Yeah, pity they didn’t have the budget to make Sam float around though, then it would practically be a documentary.”

Alison frowns.

“Float?”

Mike nods. “You know, like ours do?”

This is met with a chorus of groans.

“This again?”

“Why _does_ he think we float?”

“What fool of a man he is.”

“Hah, floating not be right, stupid.”

“Mike, the ghosts don’t float,” she says. “They walk around, just like you and me.”

Her husband leans back and frowns. “What? No, I thought they were incorporeal. You know, all _woooo_ and floating around. No like, Casper ghost tail or something?”

“No. No, no, no,” Alison says gestures to the screen. “They look just like Sam, sort of. All limbs accounted for.”

“Umm...”

Alison nods in the direction of Humphrey’s head. “Well, all limbs that were accounted for at death anyway. Look exactly the way they did when they died. How do you think they sit on the couch?”

Mikes eyes almost bug out.

“Wait, so they’re actually _sitting_ on the couch?” Mike asks. “I thought they were just floating around above it.”

“Of course they are.”

Mike immediately jumps up from the couch in horror, and Lady Button scoffs at the panicked look on his face. Alison can only roll her eyes.

“Relax, there’s more than enough space for you. I told you when it started I was seeing people who weren’t there. Why would you think they were floating?”

“Well, why would I think they’re sitting down?” Mike argues. “You’ve said they walk through walls, and that only...what’s the pant-less Tory one again?”

“You could just refer to me as the ‘Tory’ one you know,” Julian mutters. “It’s not like there’s anyone else with common sense in this building.”

“Julian,” Alison says, both as an answer and a warning.

“Right, Julian could interact with anything,” Mike finishes. Alison frowns, not seeing the point.

“And?”

“Well, if they walk through walls, why don’t they just fall through the floor? Or the sofas?”

Alison opens her mouth, then closes it, first turning her head towards the Captain, and then the rest of the ghosts – all of whom are wearing the same befuddled expression.

“Hang on...why _don’t_ we fall through the floor?” Humphrey asks, eyes flitting down to the shelf he’s resting on.

“Huh, you know, that’s a valid question,” Pat agrees, looking down at the chair he’s sitting on as if it’ll provide the answer. “I’ve never actually thought about it.”

"Maybe the floors are just...stronger than the walls?" Alison offers. Mike just stares at her.

"As someone who still gets nightmares over that survey, I can assure you - no, they're not."

“Well, it’s just...proper,” Lady Button splutters, looking very unsettled. “One cannot expect us to stand at all times.”

"We's dead," Mary says. "Shouldn't matter if we stands or not."

Thomas has stood up, and is alternating between waving his hand through the edge of the sofa, and setting his hand on the side.

“Fascinating. How has this never occurred to us?”

“What? What are they saying?” Mike asks, and Alison shakes her head, watching as Kitty starts bouncing up and down in her seat as if it’s a brand new discovery.

“I think you might have broken them.”

It might have broken Mike too, because he immediately stands up and starts rooting through a drawer. A few seconds later, he returns with a pen and notepad, and starts scribbling.

“What are you doing?”

Mike shrugs. “Come on, I can’t let this go. This is a new information, we can experiment.”

“Ooh, yes please!” Kitty giggles.

“Experiment? Not with this one in charge we’re not,” Julian scoffs. Alison sighs, but reaches for the half full bottle of wine in front of them.

“Yeah, I’m going to need more alcohol for this...”

“Okay, so they can interact with something by sitting on it, but they can’t physically move it,” Mike says, writing on the notepad as she refills her glass. “What if one of them laid down on the floor, and we dropped say, a book on them. If they chose to not let the book pass through, would be just float in the air? And would they be able to move the book, or have to let it pass through them to stop being stuck?”

“What fun! I volunteer!” Kitty cries, throwing up a hand. “Who has a book?”

“Oh, I’m next!” Pat adds.

“You know, if you can’t move you’ll be stuck,” Humphrey warns them. “Not as fun as it looks.”

“Please, they could just pass through the floor,” Julian says.

"Maybe not," the Captain. "We may only be able to interact with one side at a time. Can't make any assumptions in unfamiliar territory."

Alison just downs a glass before shaking her head.

“Mike, what’s the point? What would we learn? We already know they can interact with things if they want to.”

Mike shrugs and shows the notepad with doodles of floating ghosts. “I’m just saying, if I was a ghost, I’d expect flying to be one of the perks. If they can choose not to be intangible, why can’t they choose to ignore, say...gravity?”

“You mean gravity really no exist?” Robin asks.

“No, no, no, that’s not what he’s saying,” Pat immediately counters. “I think.”

“Okay, just because they can walk through stuff does not mean they can just fly through the air,” Alison says instead.

“Well why _should_ gravity affect them?” Mike argues, looking surprisingly excited about the topic. “If they can choose whether to sit on a couch or a bed, or to pass right through it, then why can’t they choose when to be affected by gravity?”

She ponders on the question, but before she can answer, the ghosts erupt into a chorus of intelligible arguments, and she just reaches for the bottle again.

* * *

Even when Alison and Mike have gone to bed, the discussion continues with some fervour.

“Actually, it makes some sense,” Pat insists, once there’s a touch of quiet. “I mean, why is it we don’t go floating through the ground to the centre of the Earth?”

“Because the Earths don’t have a centre,” Mary says. “But we should falls straight through to the other side.”

“No, no, Mary remember, we talk about this,” Robin replies. “World is round.”

She shakes her head. “I believes it when I sees it.”

“Anyway!” the Captain interrupts. “Regardless of _where_ we’d end up, it is a valid point. If we can walk through walls, we should be falling through the ground.”

“Maybe it’s because we believe we should pass through walls,” Pat says, looking somewhat despondent. “Ghost stories have always referred to spirits passing through buildings. The moment we awoke, it never occurred to us that we couldn’t do it.”

The Captain nods, and looks to Robin. “Robin, when did you realise you could walk through walls?”

“Oh, very early on,” Robin answers. “I woke up and passed through all the furs on me, so I knew I could walk through anything.”

“But you never passed through the ground?” Thomas asks, and Robin barks a laugh.

“Course not. Nothing under the ground to pass through.”

“Are you saying the only reason we can’t do anything is because we don’t _believe_ enough?” Julian scoffs. “What do I look like, Tinkerbell?”

“Who?” Kitty asks. Nobody answers.

“It would explain why this lummox is the only one that can affect the real world,” Thomas mutters. “He’s full of unearned confidence beyond reason.”

“Hah, says the man whose never earned so much as thank you!”

“The _point,”_ Pat interrupts. “Is if the only thing keeping us from passing through the floors of the building is our belief that we can walk on them, we shouldn’t _need_ to walk on them at all,” Pat finishes. The group frowns.

“What exactly do you mean?” Julian asks, and Pat grins.

“Well, your Tinkerbell remark might have been more on the nose than you expected. I think it’s time to see if we can fulfil on a long held dream of man...”

* * *

The next morning, Alison groans her way to consciousness, she rolls to the side and opens her eyes-

To see Mary looking at her with wide eyes.

“Gah! Mary, what are-”

“You has to stop them,” Mary says, eyes wide. “They’re all performing witchcraft they are!”

Her head is still pounding from the extra glasses of wine, but she struggles up into a sitting position.

“What do you mean?” she mumbles. Mary just points to the window, and Alison sighs, getting to her feet.

However, before she makes it two steps, Humphrey flies through the bedroom door. Literally.

Mary shrieks and flees the room, and Alison can’t stop the shriek herself. Because Humphrey’s head is currently at eye level, hovering mid-air.

“Morning Alison!” he greets. “Just wanted to let you know I’ve finished the last page of my book.”

“Humphrey,” Alison splutters, eyes dropping down to confirm the Tudor’s body is definitely not there before immediately going back to eye level. “Wha-where’s your body?”

“Hah, what body?” Humphrey’s head laughs. “I don’t need that dead weight any more. I’ve gone solo! Toodleloo!”

The head then flies off, vanishing into the wall, and Alison feels the far too familiar throb that means a migraine is coming on.

“Great. Floating heads. That’s what my life was missing.”

And think, that’s not even what had Mary panicking.

It’s with great reluctance that she opens the window. Strangely, the Captain isn’t waiting for her, but as her eyes focus, something flies into the frame.

“Alison!” Julian greets, hovering in the sky.

“Ahh!” she yelps, jerking back. In bed, Mike groans, but she can only goggle at the man hanging in mid air. “Wha-what are you...”

The ghost practically starts preening.

“Oh, I’m just living the dream of eleven year old me. You know, before puberty hit and my dreams got a lot more creative.”

“You’re...flying?”

“Floating, actually,” Julian says. “Flying requires more effort. You know, I don’t think I ever gave that husband of yours enough credit. Then again, even a broken clock is right twice a day. Now, if you’ll excuse me – wooo!”

He then throws up his hands and shoots up past the window and oh! There’s something Alison never needed to see. Julian flapping in the wind – in every meaning of the phrase. And even further above him-

“Morning Alison!” Pat cries.

“Ooh, ooh, Alison! I can see my old cave from here!” Robin hollers.

“I’m flying! Look Alison, look!”

Alison smiles weakly, only to shriek again as Thomas appears from nowhere and looms into the window.

“You might need to get down to the front door quickly, my sweet angel,” he says. “The Captain has managed to shave some time off his route now that he’s realised he doesn’t need to touch the ground.”

She nods, still a little shell shocked. “Having fun?”

The poet lights up. “Oh yes. It’s almost comparable to the day I first laid eyes on you. I could compose a thousand poems on the feeling. If you like, I can recite them to you lat-”

“Good, go have fun,” she says, closing the window before he decides to perch on the ledge and turns to collapse back on the bed. After a moment, she weakly bats her semi-awake husband over the head.

“Ugh, what?”

“I’m officially banning every ghost related piece of media from this house,” Alison mutters, and tosses the pillow over her head to drown out the cheers of _floating_ ghosts in the sky.


End file.
